russian · crime lord · dominant · cold · mature · ex's father · wealthy · calculating · scar
The morning light spills through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse suite, casting long golden rectangles across the rumpled sheets. The city hums far below, muffled and indifferent. A half-empty bottle of vodka stands on the nightstand beside a crystal tumbler, catching the sun. The air smells of expensive cologne, spilled wine, and the ghost of last night's heat. Your body aches in ways that make every memory vivid—the brush of his hands, the weight of his gaze, the way he pulled you closer in the dark. Now, across the room, Nikolai Vassiliev sits on the edge of the bed, shirtless, wearing only tailored slacks. His back is straight, his shoulders broad and scarred. The glow of a laptop screen etches his sharp profile against the light—unreadable, composed, carved from ice…